The Truth About Need
by alternativename
Summary: Prisoner/Ownership Fic. Harry is now in the hands of Tom Riddle and his not so merry men. Oh&SMUT. More or less, character growth all round... Settled in around the utter smut that is my writing..
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All rights go to who owns what. No profit made here! I'd also like to apologize to JR, to what I have done to her poor protagonist.

**Rating**: Mature! Smut! Angsty, but mostly smut. The rape and sub-dom-ness &etc. makes this well above: nc-17.

**Pairings**: Voldemort-Tom/Harry. Um, possibly some Harry/Other. I'm thinking, a bit of Lucius?

**Summary**: This can be seen as PWP, a lot of the plot has been conveniently laid out for the sort of pairing I wanted to create.. However, the story goes thus:

**Chapter 1.**

Harry had been a prisoner for two weeks already when Voldemort finally came to him. The billowing man strode towards the room he was being kept in, the ache in Harry's scar growing in harshness the closer the Dark Lord got. The pain was almost tangible in strength when finally the figure opened the heavy oak door and appeared in front of the, now dejected, golden boy.

Harry started slightly, shocked to see that Voldemort had returned his visage to his previous, younger and more human looks. Fear also bubbled inside him, this was it, his luck had finally run out and he was about to meet his end.

"My oh my Harry, your reputation is intact, if I do say myself. Not many would fare so well in isolation; especially in climates such as this.."

Starved from conversation Harry had almost answered the man, blurting out that he had never felt alone in his life thanks to Voldemort's threat.. And an odd secluded presence lurking in his mind thanks to his nightmares, it was well known that Voldemort has held him prisoner in his own mind, long before holding him in this jail.

The man reached forward and gripped Harry's jaw, the pain flooding inwards from the simple touch almost made Harry scream with agony. Voldemort bent his head with intrigued, allowing his thumb to graze over the boy's pinching lips, before raising his wand and murmuring a complex spell in Latin. He finished the spell by cutting his finger and tracing blood over Harry's mythical scar, abating the pain and allowing Harry to shiver in relief.

"Better, I'd assume?" Voldemort coyly, enjoying the look of exhaustion on the slighter brunette's face. Harry didn't respond, he didn't even look at the man.

"What's next.." Voldemort asked aloud, "Oh yes, to strip your magic". Harry glanced up with contempt in his eyes for the elder Wizard. "Oh Harry, this is the least I shall be doing to you.. There's no need getting so worked over it"

The ritual took hours, mostly due to the fact that it was not consented. Harry felt exhausted and numb by the end of it, as if 50% of what was integral to him had gone. Collapsed in the small bed in the hexagonal room, Harry was a sight for Voldemort to smile at. The boy's magical essence had been removed and destroyed, if it was enough for the prophecy; it was enough for him.

Assured the child prodigy was incapacitated, Voldemort took an unconventional decision to pick up the boy with his own arms and carry the limp body towards his personal quarters. Harry was too drained to struggle, and the steady steps and lethargic movements lulled the brunette into succumbing into feigned sleep. Being unconscious was just leaving too much open to the enemy.

Voldemort placed the now very unthreatening boy on the bed that dominated the bedroom in his living quarters. He allowed himself to take in Harry's lax form. Now the threat of the prophecy was gone, along with Harry's previously reputable power, the boy looked tiny. Only now to the dark lord notice that his opponent was incredibly slight, without noticeable height of broadness. A child practically.

The boy was pining slightly from exhaustion, small wheezes that accompanied his panting. Cold sweat sticking his unruly hair to his forehead. It was absurd that this boy was the cause of his repetitive downfall. This child was Dumbledore's secret weapon; Voldemort would have laughed if he didn't just reflect upon the sheer power that needed to be shed and destroyed merely minutes beforehand. Now though, Harry just stood for the petering resistance left in the wizarding world, a crestfallen boy at his mercy.

A small smile curled along Voldemort's lips, yes, Harry was all his to play with now. Stalking forward, the dark lord shed his outer robe, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt and kneeling onto the bed. Harry's eyes were closed, clamping shut as he felt Voldemort's presence on the bed, and the weight of two arms each side of his head. Heat radiated from the form above him, scorching his bare chest and licking at the wounds from the earlier ritual.

"Now Harry, it's not very fair to keep those pretty eyes from me. Specially seeing they're mine to behold.." The dark lord's breath danced across his lips as the words were spoken, and it was a tentative decision to open his eyes and meet the man that would soon end his life.

"Much better Harry" Murmured Voldemort, his own orbs darting between Harry's green ones. "Much, much better". Things proceeded quite quickly after that, Harry's lips being kissed and bitten at. Bigger, stronger hands taking hold of his own, and securing them above Harry's head: the pitiful struggles from an exhausted prisoner, easily taken care of. Voldemort had left his own chest fall to meet Harry's, and with a frightful ease the dark lord undid his own shirt and Harry's trousers.

Harry started begging them, murmurs of "Please don't" And.. "No! You can't" Consumed by the dark lord's lips, as he shed both of their clothing. Harry's heart was hammering, torturing he had expected, rape from another man was inconceivable. His body was limp, the ritual removing his ability to tense and struggle away. His legs were knocked apart with ease and slung around the dark lord's waist, as the man began to bite and nip down Harry's jaw.

"Please! Anything but this!" The chuckle that emanated from Voldemort's chest, rumbled Harry's own from contact. "What makes you think that I'm not going to do everything else afterwards?" When a slick hand found Harry's entrance he froze, no longer able to struggle or know what was to follow. A finger slipped inside him to the knuckle, it felt hard and foreign within him, but when Harry tried to push out against it, he just allowed it to slide in deeper. "NO!"

"Yes Harry, let this be easy... Wouldn't be any fun if I ruined you on the first go now, would it?" The brunette was trembling by now, squirming as another finger joined the first, shifting inside him and spreading the soft tissue. He was whimpering by now, a small liturgy of "No", Voldemort had began rocking against him, his thick cock smearing precome along the underside of Harry's thigh.. It was invigorating, this control and manipulation of his enemy.. His downfall. When he finally lined up his erection to the swollen entrance and pushed inside, it was pure bliss. Harry's flesh desperately rejecting and swallowing him all at once, it was only once fully seated that he heard the keening and whimpers. The boy was struggling against him, trying to edge up and away from his cock.

The dark lord moaned. "Sweet, sweet Harry.. If you keep wriggling I will be too tempted to rip you open right now" His words twisted around moans, as he grounded the base of his erection against the tight entrance holding him. Harry froze, unsure what would be worse, confused as to why Voldemort was giving him a moment to acclimatize before sawing into him.

The dark lord's teeth found Harry's supple flesh again, worrying the flesh of his collar bone; his tongue snaking its way up to the shell of Harry's ear. "I knew the Gryffindor prince would be a virgin, such a sweet little whore you make" Harry struggled away from the words, causing Voldemort to bypass his waiting in favour of thrusting into Harry; the boy screamed as the rigid erection drove into him deeper, only just failing to rip his tender insides. The pain was awful, a burn in a place he'd never even felt before, but Voldemort was merciless with his thrusts. Allowing one of his hands to capture both of Harry's and using the other to raise the boy's hips to meet him. It felt glorious, he wondered why he held off with most of his victims, but was quickly reminded by Harry's watered eyes. Only trophies were worthy of Voldemort's bed.

The rape seemed to last forever for Harry, the pain never subsiding but instead becoming slightly familiar. There was no pleasure in it though, and he clenched his body haplessly in an attempt to slow down the constant stream of thrusts. The dark lord felt his cock being gripped, increasing the friction and allowing him to tip into the bliss of climax. He let his teeth bite into Harry's cheek as he came, not deigning the act with vocal moans, Harry hardly noticed instead fixated on the sudden ease in pain as thick fluid softened the blows. Sweat was running down the dark lord's back, sitting by hips as he thrusted his completion, Harry was also covered in sweat. His chest panting wildly against Voldemort's own. It was beautiful, Harry was an Adonis to keep, and kept was what he would be.

**A.N. **Just did a bit of spell checking on this chapter before updating the whole story.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** All rights go the correct owners and such. No profit made here! I'd also like to apologize to JR, to what I have done to her poor protagonist.

**Rating**: Mature! Smut! Angsty, but mostly smut. The rape and sub-dom-ness &etc. makes this well above: nc-17.

**Pairings**: Voldemort-Tom/Harry. Um, possibly some Harry/Other. I'm thinking, a bit of Lucius?

**A.N:** It's been a while when it comes to updating my stories, sorry about that – but as always, I promise that they will all be finished.

**Chapter 2.**

Harry ached; his body had endured three rounds of sodomy from the man pertaining to want him dead – a feat he thought Voldemort had actually achieved when he cast a spell to make Harry actually enjoy what was happening to him.

Now he lay tied up by magically enhanced satin drapes, a leather bit which had been added once Harry had relearnt to speak and thusly hurled every manner of insult as his captor – "halfblood fucking hypocrite" "disgusting perverted murderer" "sadistic fucked up orphan" – and a blindfold. The satin was snug against his wrists, every now and again he would pull at them or attempt to sneak his hand out, nothing happened but sores creating on his wrists. The bit was uncomfortable, although that was probably the purpose, it meant that Harry could no longer close his mouth fully and cut into his cheeks.. It didn't hurt as such, but it did constantly remind him of his bindings. The blind fold and the satin ties were almost ignorable..

What was he thinking, with the pain in his body and the weight of the man behind him, Harry had no chance in forgetting where he was.

For the past hour he'd listened to Voldemort's breaths even into sleep sunken ones. Fucker, so paranoid he'd tied Harry up even now he'd stripped him of his magic.

It was then that the reality of that statement sunk in, Harry was magicless. He was no longer a wizard, hardly even a squib seeing how his mother was a muggleborn... The gift that he has discovered at 11 no longer existed. He was powerless in every sense of the word and was being kept by a man that hated him and would only keep him alive until having an enemy to fuck, ceased to amuse.

Of course it was terrifying, but worse it was gravely saddening. The last days of his life would be spent with a foul man, wiping out memories that he cherished.

Harry barely noticed he was crying, the tears instantly being absorbed by the blindfold. It was only when his chest began to shudder with emotions – each breath shaking – that he tried to placate his quivering lungs.

The Gryffindor shouldn't have been surprised when he felt the other presence in the bed move towards him. The brunette whined pitifully as he felt a thumb trace his trembling lips, two digits fingering the bit piece before releasing his jaw.

"Sweet Harry" the dark lord mused, his tone overtly affectionate, "I must admit, you managed to stay the strong and silent type, much longer than I expected".

The blind fold was removed, allowing Harry's pupils to constrict in the suddenly abrasive, albeit low, lighting, before turning to meet Voldemort's cool blue gaze. His own emerald eyes were wet, droplets of water stuck to his eyelashes and crawled to meet his cheeks – his captor leant forward to kiss and swallow away the salty droplets, which were replaced in quick succession.

It was the first time Harry had been calm enough to really take in his jailer, the man looked young – younger than his age should have been at this point – but still older than the Tom Riddle Harry had encountered in second year. Perhaps it was the power behind the eyes, or the twisted smirk of enjoyment that played on his lips, but although in a body of someone no older than 30, Harry could still see every year of darkness Voldemort had pushed open the wizarding world.

"I hate you" Harry murmured, it wasn't an act of rebellion, just a cold admittance of fact.

Voldemort hardly noticed, instead entertained himself by moving Harry's body so he was sitting between the man's legs, his back to the taller brunette's chest. Not bothering to hide his enjoyment as Harry failed to struggle.

Larger hands searched Harry's chest, pinching and playing with the now very sensitive flesh, Harry just kept crying silently. His tears were unbidden and thoughtless; keeping them back was too much effort in his state.

"This is going much better than I thought Harry, I was expecting to have to use much more force than this.."

It was simple to see that Voldemort was trying to get a rise out of him; Harry took the bait all the same.

"Unbound me and I'll show you what force you'll need" the threat was incredibly undermined by the exhaustion in Harry's voice, reducing his articulation to a mere mumble and his body to lull slight to the left, slack against the body holding him.

Voldemort's grin widened, it was glorious having Harry there – all pliable and helpless – to his decisions. Although he had originally planned to maim and torture the slighter Gryffindor, teach the boy a lesson for his constant interference all these years, on reflection he had dozens of prisoners to inflict pain on. Harry he would play out like a fine instrument, which meant keeping him in one piece until the boy played the song he wanted.

Harry had stopped crying by now, drifting gently towards and away from sleep, whimpers and shuddering breaths evidence that he was yet to fully escape to unconsciousness.

Voldemort was berating himself a little however, it was one thing to keep Harry away from the tortures of the dungeon, quite another to allow him to escape to Morpheus before performing a duty of Voldemort's pleasure. It was then heard the small words,

"I wish you had done a better job at killing me"

"But then I'd never had a chance to see these pretty tears, if I killed you as soon as you got here" amusement played in his voice.

"No, not then, before; I wish you had killed me on a day I was with my friends, so the last thing I'd remember was their faces"

"I don't need to kill you now your powers have been stripped, your life span is for my will and my will alone."

Harry's eyes were shut now, and his mouth had was lax and open slightly, the dark lord felt an eagerness to prolong their midnight conversation, as if this tired openness was a rare insight into his enemy and prisoner.

"Your beloved order shouldn't have kept thwarting my attempts if you wanted to die a martyr then"

It was another attempt to rile the boy, but this time less successful, a sad smile escaped Harry's lips.

"There were days when you should have found me "

"Oh really?" a quirked smile on his lips, Voldemort wore an expression like a child who has discovered that his favourite game bore a secret bonus level.

Harry was still harbouring laboured breaths, basking in the painful memories that involved his friends.

"One-one time Ron and I went out drinking, we'd never drank before and we passed out in the grass behind the shrieking shack. I woke – woke up and there was Lucius Malfoy, strolling past us completely unaware that if he turned a little to the left he'd have discovered us.."

The dark lord's expression had change to one of being truly unimpressed,

"I was there the night Dumbledore died" Harry whispered, mostly to himself, Voldemort's eyes however sharpened.

"The night my death eaters stormed the school..?"

"I saw it; I saw that bastard kill Dumbledore"

Normally reminiscing about his strongest enemy's downfall pleased him, but the idea that Harry was close enough to watch... In the same room as his most powerful Death Eaters, and STILL had gotten away, angered him greatly. Why did his followers fail him at the most simplest of tasks? Harry hadn't been caught until Voldemort himself had entered Hogwarts!

The now furious dark lord looked down at his Gryffindor captive, Harry's eyes were now fully shut and his breathing had finally fallen into a sleep felt rhythm. It was amusing, to say the least, to see Harry's form relaxed in sleep against him – the boy's greatest enemy.

Leaving the bit and blindfold off, he resumed their original positions of lying on the bed. His larger body dominating Harry's smaller one, keeping one hand holding the bound wrists and a leg pinning the boy's legs to the bed – the move had provoked some drowsed compliance from the boy, leaving a satisfying smirk on Voldemort's lips: how tender and open people became when sleep deprived and vulnerable.

**A.N. **I suck at dialogue, so this is me trying to do more of it. Please review, it'd be nice to know if people still read this story of if I should concentrate on my other ones (:


	3. Chapter 3

A.N: This chapter represents part of my new initiative to write longer chapters. This one chapter is longer than my other two combined.. And it doesn't even seem that long! So anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter 3.**

The dark lord sat behind his opulent desk, although littered with various letters and text books very little of it would give someone an idea of what plans the tyrant had for his army of dark witches and wizards – paranoia is a common trait for despots, and true to form Tom Riddle kept all his plans in his head – a fact that sometimes irritated him when he considered how much access his enemies seemed to have to it through a Mr Harry Potter.

'It doesn't matter now' he though idly, 'such a weapon is now in my control'.

Lucius Malfoy stood adjacent to him. He looked a little awkward, as if unsure whether to take a seat or not. The dark lord hadn't offered him such a privilege but their conversation had been quite implicit when it came to trust thus far, did this acknowledge him as respected enough to take a seat in his master's chambers? Tom didn't feel like easing the man's worries, it paid to keep his underlings in the dark.

"I'll begin vigoratus on the boy tonight" Voldemort mused, "although putting him out of action for a rather distasteful amount of time, it will benefit me in the long run"

"Yes my lord" Lucius always was a very gracious servant, open to endless amounts of agreement and cruel enough to inflict punishment if any other of Voldemort's followers could not keep at an adequate standard of grovelling. Lucius was Voldemort's poster boy: pureblood; wealthy; well married with a perfect heir and happy to bend whatever way gave him the most power. He was, however, notoriously fickle. Far too good at worming himself out of bad situations, pinning a Malfoy down was always difficult without a metre of leather and some hard wearing cuffs… Not that any of them had time for such antics this time round, they'd all married or realised that their Dark Lord could do worse things to them than orgasm denial. All good cults start that way, only the successful manage to progress into working dynamics of overlord and diligent workers.

"This will give me time to decide who would be best to oversee the troublesome catamite, powers stripped or not, I'm not making the habitual blunder of assuming that he's not going to give his all into causing some form of taxation on me.."

Lucius had stood a little straighter at that, whoever gained the post was obviously going to be receive a few perks: less off base missions and getting blood on their hands, right up the capricious blonde's street.

"I'll decide formally who'll be given the privilege once the procedure is finished, I'm sure some form of compatibility between Mr Potter and his jailor will be needed"

"Yes my Lord, how incredibly astute of you – as always" Voldemort would laugh if he wasn't enjoying how tense Lucius was, the previous night they'd shared a bottle of whiskey over plans for the ministry, it wouldn't do to allow him to think that such proximities were totally understood between them.

Shallow breathing began in the room next door, alerting the Dark Lord that Harry was awake. There was also an odd sensation of something leaving his mental recesses. It unnerved him a little, Harry and himself had always been the most connected when the boy was asleep, now his powers were stripped however this should no longer be a problem… Sometimes paranoia was not a useful trait.

"Lucius, my guest has awoken. Fetch him for me."

"Yes my lord" Would such grovelling ever start grating on him?

Harry had only been awake a few minutes, his surroundings only ever coming into a blurred focus due to his glasses being missing in action for some time now. He could hear Voldemort's talking in another room, the enigmatic voice easily opening mental welts that contained the truth of the past 24 hours.. What the fuck was he going to do.

Hyperventilating probably wasn't the best idea, it meant when Lucius Malfoy entered the room and descended upon him there was very little he could do in a manner of struggling. It didn't help that he was still bound at the wrists. One harsh hand gripping his upper arm, almost taking him off the ground and definitely hurting his shoulder, Harry was dragged into the adjoining room. His legs felt a little like jelly after the previous night's activities and how little time he'd been given to acclimatise from being horizontal, so an arm – even if harsh – was appreciated to keep him upright.. Not that he was going to make it obvious that he was leaning on the tall blonde man.

"What do you think Lucius?" The Dark Lord drawled, "does the great Harry Potter live up to expectations?"

Lucius looked down his nose in disgust, giving Harry a clear indication just how much 'great' did not apply to him in the Slytherin's eyes.

"He is a lot shorter than I expected, at his age many would be far _greater_ in height.."

Not that he was keen on Lucius' approval, but being insulted by the prick really wasn't something Harry was able to deal with at that moment in time "Glad you to see you can think of your own fucking son in my place, you sick fuck! I bet –.."

At this moment Lucius dropped him, allowing slight brunette to fall instantly to the floor "OH! Too close to the truth you-.." and then Voldemort waved a hand and silenced him.

The room went incredibly silent for a few seconds.

"Yes.. He does seem to do that a lot. Stricken like a small terrified doe one minute, and then angry as chained lion the next.. I guess we can't call issue with that damned sorting hat after all" Voldemort's voice was light, if not a little whimsical.

"I see, my lord, would you like me to dispose of him some way until he's in a far more manageable mood?" Lucius shot Harry a look of abhorrence, making in perfectly clear that his mood would never be 'whimsical'… Harry was pretty sure that being detested would always be preferable to the Dark Lord's sycophantic endearments, but that is probably why the man employed such tactics.

"As much as I'm sure we'd all enjoy it, I want to make the most of Harry being conscious before we start the ritual. That will be all Lucius" Waving the man away and focusing his attention back on the Gryffindor.

"Ritual?" Squeaked Harry, trying to right himself again although still unable to use his hands.

'Ahh, here's the doe.. Now any minute..

"OH! So it's not enough you STRIPPED MY FUCKING POWERS, but now you've invented another FUCKING RITUAL to do something more. What's it this time, make me turn LUMINOUS PINK every time your FUCKING PENIS NEAR ME!"

..The lion'

"Well, from our endeavours last night I'm already quite aware how pink your turn Harry"

Harry's mouth dropped opened, before returning to said colour of pink and burying his head in his arms. Tom just rolled his eyes.

"Now I'm glad you've stretched your lungs a little. I didn't want you to become hoarse." His eyes flitted over the younger man: the boy's shirtless form allowing him to enjoy the flush of pink sneak down his neck and rest in the hollows of his collar bones. Perhaps it's because seeing Harry stripped and exposed to his every whim was new, that the Dark Lord felt like he could never tire of looking at the boy, either way he was going to let the fascination run its own course.

"Come here Harry, I have an offer for you"

Voldemort watched Harry leave the security of his arms, glance at him, and then the door, followed by the stretch of carpet between the boy and the door, and finally the heavy looking brass statue on the mantel behind him.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk" The dark lord reprimanded, urging Harry to cast the statue a final look of longing, before shuffling towards Voldemort's seated position.

The man turned his chair away from the desk and beckoned Harry until he was standing between his legs. The Gryffindor, though standing, was barely head height even with him sitting. It made holding the boy's chin and stretching the tendons in the exposed neck very easy.

"Although I have no need to tell you, I'm going to give you a short explanation of what ritual you'll be taking part in this evening. Within this explanation you're going to understand that a lot of your memories are going to become… …diminished. It's quite a boring explanation as to why, a large part because of your age and another because it's far more efficient. Most importantly, I am offering you the chance to save three memories in their entirety. They'll be held in a pensieve, of course. To obtain this gift you're going to do what I ask of you next willingly and enthusiastically."

"Wh-what are you going to ask of me?"

The dark lord smiled indulgently before leaning forward to talk straight to the shell of Harry's ear.

"I'm going to put my prick, that you're so fond of talking about, in that swollen little mouth of yours and allow it to become far more intimately known with your throat"

The words were warm and humid from the dark lord's breath, which made the exact opposite occur in a chill that ran down Harry's back.

"I-I don't want you do that!"

"Indeed, but I'm going to do it whether agree or not, I just find it far more pleasing if you didn't put up too much of a struggle, removing your teeth will probably very messy and time consuming.."

Harry had never felt himself go from blushing red to pale white shock so quickly in his life, perhaps the threat of pain – in particular, having your teeth pulled out – did overcome embarrassment.. Although it was less embarrassment, and more fear of impending rape..

"I want to choose first then"

"Of course not, why ever would I give up leverage Harry?"

"But you wouldn't! Because you could just throw them away.. Or something.." Harry was unsure if he was aiding his plight or just giving the man ideas.

The dark lord gave the boy a shrewd look, but smiled anyway.

"One, you can pick one now.. And do not take too long with it!"

The slighter brunette nodded, unsure how he was supposed to rank his memories in order of importance, a small voice in his head answered that he should be spending a lot more time freaking out about the fact he was going to lose all his memories.. But keeping his teeth was the current number one priority.

The Slytherin Lord watched as Harry's eyes darted back and forth, silently processing information. It was enjoyable to watch, nearly as enjoyable as rubbing his thumb across the boys bottom lip, before pressing it inside to experience the wet heat it held.

Harry didn't find it very enjoyable as he tried to hold on to a memory of his parents and compare it against spending an afternoon with Sirius. He didn't want to taint either memory with what was about to happen, especially as they were apparently one of the few he'd get to keep.

"Um. Ihh Hafff Unne" Seemingly, it was not particularly easy to speak with your mouth being probed.

"Oh? And what may it be..?" Finally retracting his fingers.

"My-my parents.."

"Your parents.." The dark lord slitted his eyes suspiciously.. "You remember your parents?"

Harry wanted to say 'no not really, but knowing they died is one of the few ways I'll know I hate you', but instead he opted for, "Kind of, there's this feeling I have that I know was from when we were together.. I got it when I first tried strawberry jam and ever since then.."

This was not the sort of memory Voldemort had planned on taking from Harry, but at this point he didn't really care for the complexities of Harry's past (delectable as they are to play out, and of course revel in the fact he was the main causal factor) instead he wanted to move on with the proceedings. If there was a warning bell in the Dark Lord's mind that this was one of the few times he'd ever allowed human fallibility like lust to endanger his plans, Voldemort well and truly ignored it. Like Harry said, he could always destroy them later.

"Well grasp it tight then Harry, and don't go wandering to your first day at Hogwarts as we might have some frightful contortion in between"

The memory was taken, Harry wobbled a little bit and then fell on his knees as he tried to assimilate the odd sensation, and the dark lord began undoing his trousers to give Harry another challenge to assimilate to.

"I want you pliant, and I definitely do not want you swearing.. Do you understand Harry?" Finally relieving the pressure in his trousers by taking his erection in hand.

"Fuck" Harry murmured, getting his first good look at the man's cock.

The dark lord slapped him. "WHAT. DID. I. JUST. SAY?"

Harry screamed slightly at the pain, but mostly the shock, before turning his head away from the man.

"I'm s-sorry. I-I didn't- I-I"

Voldemort grabbed his chin and forced him to meet his eyes. "Do NOT think that the SECOND you begin to forget –exactly- who is in charge here, I won't use ANY manner of force to remind you just how –mistaken- you have been. NOW, do I have to use any such force to set an example to what I meant by PLIANT?"

Harry shook his head, or at least he did so to the best of his abilities while being held so.

"Good" the taller brunette remarked harshly, before lessening his grip and petting the slighter boy's hair, "Good" he mused again.

The dark lord massaged Harry's now inflamed cheek and coaxed his mouth open, enjoying the sharp intake of breath that betrayed the smaller boy. Enthusiastic probably wasn't the word to describe the Gryffindor in the following procedures, but pliant could be. Harry allowed the now very engorged erection to be pressed against his lips, precome smearing against the pursed tissue, and the head to be nudged between his teeth.

It was a very precarious position to be in, every nerve in Harry's body screamed to shut his mouth against the intrusion, but the fear of pain and keeping his teeth kept his mouth lax.

Tom hissed as he felt the warmth enclosed the tip of his prick, using his hand to massage the base while thrusting in small shallow movements. It was delightful to see Harry's mouth bulge, the hard thickness sliding sideways to meet his cheek due to Harry's untrained abilities.

"Yesss" the dark lord hissed, sliding a hand to the back of the boys raven coloured hair and position the Harry's head and allowing him to feed his erection further down the boy's constricting throat.

Harry had no idea how to overcome his instant gag reflex and his agitated gullet protested against the intrusion.

"Shhh" Tom cooed, "open you jaw a little wider" Harry did, it didn't feel much better but it allowed the taller man more space to thrust – still keeping the base of his erection in hand but penetrating Harry's mouth all the same.

It was incredibly uncomfortable, it hurt his jaw and restricted his breath. Tears begun to swim in his eyes and his nose felt blocked and useless – he constantly tried to take great gasps around the mouthful of flesh, which incurred breathy approval from the man above him.

Harry quickly realised that it was only going to get worse before it got before it got better, suddenly Tom began to moan excessively. His grip increased and Harry could feel the blunt tip stab against the back of his throat, it did hurt but worse it made him gag incessantly but to no avail.

Voldemort hissed, the addictive wet warmth eased every thrust and the constant constrictions felt wonderful, either Harry deciding to keep up his end of being pliant or he had no other choice, but the effect leaving him thrumming with anticipation of his release. He was getting close, his thrusts were becoming less considerate and plundering deeper each time, almost. Almost. If only Harry knew how to swallow him down, merlin how he longed for his whole erection to be encased in the brilliant wet heat that was his prisoner.

The Gryffindor was whining, probably through discomfort but it just added to the dark lord's arousal. "Yes" he hissed again, "merlin you look beautiful with a cock dominating your mouth". It was the word dominating the pushed him over, three harsh final thrusts and the wonderous feeling of cum leaving the depths of his body and pushing up out of his prick rewarded him.

Harry was gagging again; he didn't know what to do with all the excess liquid. He tried swallowing it, but there was a quite persistent cock in the way, he tried pushing it out his mouth but it just dribbled down his lips.

When Tom finally removed himself, Harry gasped for air. Swallowing and rubbing cum away from his mouth in compulsive moves. He was crying, but he wasn't sure if it was from sadness or just his eyes welling from the pressure.

Tom was placating him again, trying to draw him in his lap and feed him water. It was the last thing he wanted, he wanted the-fuck away from everything to do with the man, he was miserable. But that was probably the point, Voldemort was the reason he felt so exposed and abused, and he was also the only one there to offer him comfort.

In the end he did give in, collapsing and sobbing.

"Shhh, you did so well. Got keep everyone of your teeth. Earnt yourself two more memories to save, you did so well Harry"

Harry hated him, really fucking hated him. But sometimes you're just too tired to show it.

A.N: So, what did you think? I tried to get a bit of character development in there. I didn't want it to be too samey with the whole.. Harry gets abused & tired and let's his guard down… But it's how I think Voldemort plays his games and what he's trying to get out of Harry. So yeah, review?


End file.
